#And a big ol dick

[johnnydoet]

Tall trucker man with hair all over his body he's really buff and kinda chubby and and and puts you in a head lock while he ruts inside you, also and also also and and

[noka-exe]

lil doodle request dump <3

[massivetittiesandwarcrimes]

I need Dick to be completely delusional about Tim and consider him to be his nicest, most helpful, and most well-behaved sibling.

_____

Tim: I have never done anything wrong, ever, in my life.

Dick: I know this and I love you 🥰

Jason: ...Dick, are you fucking HIGH???

_____

Dick: You should consider trying to be more like Tim! He's always such a well-behaved angel ❤️

Tim: Thank you, Dick 😇

Damian:

________

Dick: Tim is very kind and always so polite! He would never be mean to someone on purpose! ❤️

Bruce, who is bullied by Tim an average of 4.5 times a day:

______

Dick: Tim is an absolute sweetheart!

Cass: ... I do not think that word means what you think it does.

_____

Duke, staring at a warehouse that he and Tim just 'accidentally' blew up: ... So how mad do you think Dick is going to be at us?

Tim: Don't worry, I got this.

Dick, landing next to them: Holy explosion, Red Robin! What happened here?!?

Tim: I don't know 😔. It was like this when we got here 🥺.

Duke, whispering: There is no way he's going to believe tha-

Dick: Oh no! Well, I'm just glad you two are safe!

Duke: ... Tim, I need you to teach me your ways.

Dick: hm? Did you say something, Duke?

________

Dick: I don't get it! Why does everyone think Tim is some kind of crazed feral gremlin?!?

Alfred: I believe that is because they have in fact met Master Tim.

Dick: What was that? 🙃

Alfred: ... 😮‍💨 Truly it is a mystery for the ages.

[erinwantstowrite]

My heart soars when Bruce is written well. I think you’re able to capture this side of Bruce so well in LOF. People who reduce Bruce to a guy who “goes out punching poor people at night” hurt my soul

i love myself a nuanced and still loveable character. it's actually so important to me that i write them with their mistakes without making them into people that just don't feel like heroes anymore. THIS is the bruce wayne that my dad told me about growing up, the one that uses all of his means to help people and keeps an open mind about the ones that they're stopping. like yes, he does have a problem with pushing that moral code onto people sometimes but in my eyes that's not the worst thing he could do. some writers forget that pushing the moral code onto somebody else doesn't have to involve bruce getting violent or hurting them just for disagreeing, and that's where i believe they do wrong the most. his relationship with his kids make me sick (/pos) and i just feel like highlighting that a realistic depiction of a good dad is someone that can make mistakes, and own up to them in order to get better

also i AM nosy and i was looking at your tabs, did you do your stats assignment or does bruce wayne's pretty face take priority /lh /j

[andstuffsketches]

those other teen superheroes

[dragonpyre]

patron saint of selkie jason todd,,,, saw that post that was like 'nothing funnier than a newly born aquatic mammal realizing they've been cursed to live in water' and cant stop thinking about a jason who never learned to swim bc all the water around gotham is too dangerous, and bruce trying to teach him to swim after adopting him, holding his little chin above the water while jason stares at him with big sad wet beast eyes like 'please,,,, you were literally BUILT for this'

I actually have thought about this! Jason growing up knowing that he can't swim in the harbor or maybe Willis keeping his selkie nature a secret from him for his protection, and that results in Jason knowing fuck all about how to be a seal. Then when Bruce finds out he'd throw himself into learning everything marine biology related in the hopes of helping his new son

The cave is the perfect place to train too. They'd have a little pool tho just to be safe. Then he'd graduate up to the larger natural pools

Bruce 100% buys pool floaties and toys for him

[petermurphysmugshott]

Why are Ballister's eyes so big? So he can see men better??? Thats kinda gay.

[nightwolf14292]

Nightwing 👍

[finniestoncrane]

when peter asked egon if the girls liked his big cranium and he said they preferred his epididymis?? it’s both baby. i can assure you it’s both

[tea-cat-arts]

People on this website will be like "you can't handle the moral nuance of Madoka Magica! Not everything is black and white" and then claim everyone criticizing Homura's actions thinks she's a terrible person in the same sentence

[fisheito]

snakes have something called a jacobson's organ that allows them to smell. they stick out their tongue, and then when it enters their mouth again, the jacobson's organ processes what they just smelled with their tongue. i say this to propose that, after yakumo licks eiden's dick for a good 10 minutes, he closes his mouth and processes it all like O_____O

when i TELL YOU that this message left me bracing the wall like

(overwhelmed with positive affect)

[spidermilkshake]

It's Alive

Here we go, Resident Evil fanfic. Guess who loves mutants and monsters and hates corporations.

Rating: Teen (TW for blood, human experimentation, dehumanization, medical/lab settings and stuff, plus also human adults cuss like human adults).

First in a series: The T-00 Tyrant, later known as "Mr. X", done gets born and has a bit of a time during its first few minutes of aliving.

1: It’s Alive

            When the newly-created bioweapon first gained consciousness it took several moments to adjust itself to the barrage of sensations. There was something wrong… dizzying about the way its weight was distributed; when its fingers twitched, it felt the movement of cold fluid flowing between them, explaining right away the strange thickness that surrounded its form. Somewhat distorted, slightly muffled, it began to hear a conversation from close by, which it found it could understand:

            “Eugh. Ugly fucker, isn’t he?”

            “Ugly is as ugly does, Carson. By the way, it can hear you.”

            “Shut up. You’re not gonna scare me that way. Now, where’s that Limiter?”

            “It’s all in that box over there. I’ll start the drain.”

            There was a heavy clunk, then a pull from below as the liquid it was suspended in began being siphoned away. As its feet met the grate at the base of the chamber housing it, the bioweapon wavered in place as it finally felt its full weight settle with the force of gravity. There was a burble as the last of the fluid sucked through the drain-holes followed by relative silence, broken only by dripping from its fingertips, back, and down its chin. The chill of air beginning to dry its bare skin elicited another twitch, and it finally was motivated to open its eyes.

            Through the curved warp of the glass tube its piercing vision first perceived the face of a researcher, brows scrunched up in concentration as he examined it right back. The man was young with scruffy stubble, and clad in a long white lab coat (though with many small stains of indeterminate color). The bioweapon’s gaze slowly slid to the side, watching as the second researcher bent over a bank of controls attached to the cylinder containing it. There was another clunk, a hiss of pneumatics and a hum of electricity as the tube raised up into a housing in the dark ceiling. A new sensory capacity—scent—washed over the newly-awoken being as the stark, sterilized air of the laboratory was introduced to it. The creature blinked out of the unfamiliarity, metal grate floor creaking underneath it as it shifted its weight.

            “Tyrant T-103, designated T-00,” the second researcher said as she straightened up and took a pace over towards it, snapping its attention back to the humans over the environment. It focused on her, examining the much cleaner lab coat, the tight bun of hair, the red and white insignia over the breast pocket; humans were very small, very frail-looking, far smaller than itself and upon that nonplussed realization it had the first thought of what it was. The researcher’s voice stalled that thought with a sharp order, “Step out T-00.”

            The Tyrant designated T-00—absorbing what the woman had called it—obeyed with its first two heavy steps. Internally it was intrigued and alarmed as it felt the tiled floor shake beneath it. It must be several magnitudes larger than it had first supposed; the creature stole a moment to crane its neck further down, trying to look at itself as best it could. Its own massive chest blocked much of its view, though it could also see its own huge, stout forearms. Thick, leathery gray skin permanently marred with tightly-packed, curving striations covered every visible inch, though it was much thinner and less wrinkled towards the center of its chest—as if strained and bulging outwards from sheer mass contained within. Pulsating movement on each side of the sternum caused it to look closer. The skin there was bulging outwards; lacing through gaps in the underlying bone and muscle were twin oversized aortas, presumably issuing from twin oversized hearts, shifting visibly just under the surface as thick blood was rapidly shunted through its gigantic frame. This was… not something typical to humans, and it knew that instinctively.

            “Here. Put these on yourself.” As a bulky armful of heavy black Kevlar and leather was pushed towards it, the Tyrant’s eye snapped back to the man, who struggled to manage the whole bundle of immense boots and trousers and buckled straps until the bioweapon grasped them with the tiniest fraction of its strength. After a curious pause, it very gingerly tested its movements to crouch and set down the boots, sliding into the lower half of the sleek black covering one leg at a time. Then, into the boots one foot at a time—fumbling with the straps and buckles but then learning quickly how to make finessed motions with its new fingers.

            “This too,” And a matching trenchcoat of similar scale and material was pushed into its hands as it stood back upright. The Tyrant obeyed, carefully tightening each of the straps until the tough inner lining conformed snugly around its torso, wrists and neck. Something felt immediately correct about this. Not exactly pleasant but the presence of this outer covering was reassuring, and the bioweapon squared itself up in a more at-ease posture as it made a final few adjustments to its gloves.

            “That went well,” the male researcher muttered over to his cohort, who was piecing together notations in a sheaf of files on her clipboard. The bioweapon overheard it all with a stoic stare out over the darkened lab, aware it was being ignored. “So, this one’s finished and ready to roll out?”

            “Not quite. It still needs an implant. After that it needs to go to QA for a few days to be sure it isn’t faulty.”

            “I—I thought they came out with the implant?” He was quite suddenly doing anything but ignore the casually waiting Tyrant, stepping back and locking eyes with it before whispering over to the woman, “Um. Um… How well do these things follow orders without the controller again?”

            “Stop pissing yourself, Carson. The 103s are perfectly loyal to Umbrella staff. They’ll take any commands in-person, but to have a mission they deploy for they need the implant to keep them in contact with command servers.” She scoffed at his ugly expression towards her and stepped up a mere foot from the T-103, “Without a mission, this thing should be pretty docile. Proto-Tyrants were like wild beasts—these guys are domesticated,” She had reached up with a balled-up fist, thumping solidly against its shoulder as high as she could reach. The Tyrant could barely feel it through the Limiter, “Well, I wouldn’t try to attack it or insult it, but otherwise this big boy is currently harmless. To us, at least.”

            The bioweapon eyed the woman quizzically as she continued past it and to a flat, sterilized slab on the other side of the row of growth tubes. The creature did not understand the purpose of the gesture, though it had concluded it was neither intended as aggression, nor was this pencil-thin figure at all capable of doing any damage to it.

            “Here it is,” she returned, hands now sheathed in latex, one index finger and thumb pinched around a tiny silvery cylinder. In her other hand was a surgical drill, which piqued the creature’s interest. The male researcher’s skin turned a shade paler.

            “Jesus, you’re just gonna—?”

            “Yes, it’s fine. Just pass me the screw when I need it.”

            “…Alright. It’s your funeral…” The creature broke eye contact with the point of the drill to meet her expression—a reserved, customer-service-type smile—as she spoke its designation again:

            “T-00, please bend down this way and hold still for a moment.”

            It did so, making a pointed glance again to the drill. She didn’t miss the wary observation it was making of the tool even while it was putting its head within easy reach of it, and the false smile half-faded.

            “Yes, this is going to involve some pain and minor tissue damage. It will be brief. Stay completely still.”

            The creature did nothing to acknowledge that it had understood the researcher’s explanation, aside from fixing its attentions to the floor between them and going rigidly still as instructed. The male researcher drew back further as the drill turned on with a high-pitched whine.

            Only seconds later, the new Tyrant learned in practice what “pain” even was as the tip of the drill bit into its temple. A fiery searing lit up across its entire scalp and travelled in a shock down through its body, but aside from a startled blink it obeyed. Even as a sickening grinding slowed the drill’s progress, sinking a deep pinhole into its skull. Its hearts pounded harder, faster, in an automatic process to kickstart its healing factor. Its gigantic lungs huffed in and out without any conscious decision. …Ow.

            Before the flesh could close over the portal into its brain cavity, the researcher jammed the open circuit side of the metal cylinder inside, giving a pronounced twist to ensure the active component was fully inside the entity’s cranium. With an urgent gesture, she summoned the cowering researcher back over to pass off a long, thin screw to her, which she wasted no time in inserting into its place and drilling again to push its point deep in until the top was flush with the protruding receiver. Firmly anchoring the device into the already-regenerating bone.

            “There. Done.” She stepped back, discarding the soiled drill onto a tray and peeling off her gloves before similarly ditching them. The bioweapon stood back up to its full height, letting go a deep exhale from its cavernous chest as the throbbing echoes of that new, awful sensation faded. One of its hands wandered up to the scene of the split-second surgery, trying to explore the wet trickle starting to run down through the deep grooves of its face. The tip of one finger had just made contact with its temple—and the sticky, deep-red blood—when a far worse jolt ripped through it, as if its spine had caught fire while being simultaneously frozen solid. The creature wasn’t ready for anything like this—caught off-guard, it jerked its hand away and visibly staggered, surprising itself further as something unknown happened in its throat by reflex. A strange tightening as air rushed out, and its own breathing made a noise, a sort of deep croak, vocal cords coarse and clunky and unused. This alone triggered another stiff flinch.

            “T-00, don’t attempt to touch the implant, or the deterrent will activate.” The researcher said, crossly striding away and beginning to make further notes on her clipboard. The Tyrant turned and gazed at her despite her now completely paying no attention to the nearly eight-foot bioweapon standing stunned after its brain had been cattle-prodded. “Carson, I’ve got to finish up here. You’ll be sure to take that to the holding area so QA can get to work, alright?”         

    “Ugh. Fine.” The Tyrant was presently aware of the other researcher taking a few timid steps towards it, snapping it out of the brain fog that the jolt had punished it with, “Come on, you heard the lady. Follow me.”

[hood-ex]

Nothing to do with anything but I was thinking about something. Do you think that with the impact of the Spider Verse movies, DC will be encouraged to better advertise their animated movies? Or at least give them more relevance. Because if there's one thing that I feel DC is good at, it's making animated movies and I'd like to see one in the theater.

I hope Spider-Verse encouraged them to consider making more higher budget animated movies (DC, give me animated Nightwing instead of live action Nightwing or I stg).

I mean, we've got successful releases like The Lego Batman Movie and DC League of Super-Pets, but tonally, those don't carry the same weight as a lot of DC's direct-to-video movies, and they also don't have to stick to a specific source material. They're made for a broader audience while DC's other animated movies may not interest casual fans as much. Plus, a lot of DC's animated movies seem to be just over an hour or so in length, so people might not pay to see a movie that short.

I also think DC is content making direct-to-video movies because there's less chance of them losing money that way, and they still end up making a profit from them unlike the release of Mask of the Phantasm (which was released in theaters and didn't have good marketing). Although, I feel like I read that they eventually did make a profit off of it once it went to video.

But yeah, I think DC tends to thrive more in the animated realm and it would be cool to see them make animated movies with a more diverse art/animation style (like Batman Ninja) compared to their usual direct-to-video styles. Maybe a bigger marketing budget would follow a bigger production budget.

[87dvhnk]

"i read the wiki and i saw the pages/panels already, why do i need to read the comics?"

because a) some those comics fuck with awing dexterity and stamina b) there's a good chance shit is out of context or simply misrepresented (innocently, humorously, ignorantly or maliciously) and c) you know the beats/endings of tons of shit, but it doesn't impede your enjoyment of it, now does it? sure it's nice to go in spoiler free, but if the gimmick of spoiling material is all a piece of media has, then that piece of media is meritless. you knew who luke skywalker's father was before you saw the movie. is it still worth watching? you knew romeo and juliet died before you read the play. is it still worth reading? do you not want to go on a journey? do you not want to feel something? do you not want to commiserate about the human experience through art? a wiki will never be comprehensive enough to cover everything you would have read or seen yourself--it can't be, not without being the thing itself. even then, you still miss the things not on the page/screen, the things that are only implied, the things that go unstated, or else conspicuously omitted. don't talk to me about shit haunting the narrative if the only haunting you've ever been apart of was your passing despite your dogshit analysis skills haunting the conscience of your eng 101 adjunct professor in perpetual fear of losing their contract and being relocated from their car to under a bridge by demanding college students demonstrate basic reading comprehension, critical thinking, and coherent argumentative skills. boast about killing the author? my friend, you are cain advancing in the fields, skulking, stepping in abel's footprints, filled with murderous intent, with nothing but the chinese telephone-equivalent of a description of a weapon cutting into your soft palms.

[whodarestoloveforever]

My ‘murican ass gives zero fucks about today it’s just that this shit is 10 years old already wtf💀

[killuaisaprincess]

⚠️

“F-Fine, jerk! I don’t care about your stupid friends or y-you!”

Gon doubles over in pain, cursing to himself, watching as Killua stomps towards the door, glancing back with tears in his eyes.

Aghhh! This is too much for his dumb brain to process! But he didn’t like seeing Killua sad.